


Take A Break

by scully_carter



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex being totally oblivious to his feelings, Alex is also a huge nerd lmao, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Panic Attack, Social Anxiety, idk how to tag, near-drowning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scully_carter/pseuds/scully_carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Schuyler sisters invite Alexander to stay with them for a week at their cottage, but they also invited Thomas Jefferson, something Alex is less than happy about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take A Break

**Author's Note:**

> hi friends here's a super long and super shitty one shot I started while I was on vacation last month and finally got around to finishing this weekend I hope u enjoy
> 
> feel free to comment what u think I love to hear from you guys
> 
> if anyone needs me, I'll be in the trash where I live now with the rest of my other jamilton fics

Hamilton got out of the car, slowly stretching his cramped muscles. He inhaled deeply, drinking in the salty scent of the ocean air. Eliza was right, he thought. This vacation would be good for him.

Phillip was already running around the beach, Eliza watching him from where she stood beside her car. Alexander smiled at his son, nine years old and full of boundless energy, curls flying in the wind as he chased a seagull across the sand.

Peggy hopped out of the backseat of the car and moved to Alexander's side.

"Ugh, I remember coming here as a kid." she said. He looked up at the cottage, a cute waterfront building perched on the edge of a sandy cliff.

It would be the perfect place for him to sit and write his book.

"It's nice here." he remarked.

"Yeah. Quiet." Peggy replied.

"Are you two gonna help me or what?" Angelica demanded crossly. She was slowly unloading their suitcases the trunk of her car.

Alexander hurried to help her. Peggy didn't budge, standing there squinting up at the cottage in her yellow sundress, red and white striped leggings, and red and yellow Wellington boots, her dark brown curls blowing in the wind. What Peggy lacked in age and knowledge in comparison to her older sisters, she made up for in eccentric, self-expressive outfits.

Eliza and Maria were already halfway up the path to the cottage, Phillip in tow. Alexander and Angelica trudged after them, lugging their suitcases. Peggy scurried after them, dragging her own luggage behind her.

The spacious cottage smelled like a Yankee Candle shop, vanilla and mint and citrus and cinnamon all at the same time.

  
The word that came to mind was ‘quaint.’

There was a kitchen, all pale blue cupboards and white trim. The appliances were modern, shiny stainless steel. The curtains were checkered blue and white, and the walls were lined with prints of seashells and beaches in wooden frames. The kitchen opened onto a living room, the walls lined with bookshelves, with a pair of brown leather armchairs and a dark red plaid futon. There was a gas fireplace, the mantlepiece lined with candles, a standing piano in the corner, and a flat screen television. The curtains were the same colour and pattern as the futon.

There were two bedrooms and a bathroom off the living room, and stairs leading up to two more bedrooms and another bathroom. Hamilton would explore later, he decided, throwing himself down on the futon.

"Making yourself at home?" Maria teased.

"Yep." he replied, flashing a grin at his ex-flame.

He and Maria had been an accident. He and Eliza were barely out of high school when Eliza told him she was pregnant. Alexander had been too young, not nearly old enough to be a father. At the time, the only thing on his mind was college, not kids. But he'd done his best to be there for Eliza. It wasn't enough, and he knew it. Exhausted, stressed, drunk, and with hardly enough money to get by on, he'd bumped into Maria one night.

When Maria found out he had a kid and a girlfriend, she went to Eliza and explained herself. The two of them ganged up on his sorry ass, and the next thing Alex knew, Eliza had kicked him out and she and Maria were together.

Alexander went to college, where he met John Laurens. They dated for the next couple of years, and slowly, he and Eliza had pieced everything back together, agreed on joint custody of Phillip. Eliza forgave him, and they were both gay as all hell anyway.

So now here he was, nine years later. He and Laurens had gone their separate ways somewhere along the line when Alex decided he wanted to become a writer and Laurens ended up moving back to South Carolina.

"...Phillip can have the second bedroom downstairs..." Angelica was saying. "Peggy and I will share, and Thomas can share with Alex when he gets here."

Hamilton sat bolt upright. "Thomas? Oh, please, lord, no." Not Thomas Jefferson, Alexander's sworn enemy, his political rival.

"Yes, Alex, I invited Thomas up. He's my friend." Angelica said, rolling her eyes.

"He's certainly not mine."

"Well, you have to share a room with him, so please try and at least act like an adult about it." Angelica pleaded.

"Besides, you don't wanna spend all week with all us girls, do you?" Eliza asked, her eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Nah, I have Phillip!" he protested. "Right, little man?" Phillip fist-bumped him. "Yeah. See?"

"Thomas is coming up tomorrow." Angelica said, her tone inviting no negotiation. "Your room is upstairs, first on the left." She disappeared upstairs to her own room, Peggy bouncing after her, giving Alex an apologetic shrug.

Alex sighed. "So, what's for dinner, buddy?" he asked Phillip. The boy shrugged. "Dunno. Mom said there's a fish and chips truck around here or somethin'."

"Fish and chips sounds good. Maybe we'll walk down after we unpack. Did you bring a football? Frisbee?" he continued.

"Yeah, we've got a frisbee." Phillip said, face lighting up at the suggestion. "Okay, well, better ask your moms if it's okay for us to go down to the beach and play." Alexander said, getting up from the futon.

Phillip darted off to find Eliza and Maria.

 

They went down to the beach and played with the frisbee for a bit, a grin tugging at Alex's mouth every time Phillip laughed when he fumbled a catch or his throw went too wide. They walked down to the fish and chips truck for dinner, and ate on the beach.

Alex showered, rinsing the sand out of his hair, and then went to bed, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He'd forgotten completely about Jefferson.

Alex woke early, morning sunlight streaming in through the curtains, which he'd left open. The cottage was quiet. Everyone else was still asleep, he realized. He'd never been one for sleeping in, even though the bed was king-sized and unbelievably comfortable, so he rolled out of bed and shuffled downstairs to put the coffee pot on.

Refreshed by the cup of coffee, he wandered back upstairs to find his laptop, which he brought out onto the porch, settling into a deck chair to work on his new book. The blank page stared back at him, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, but no words offering themselves up to him. He took another sip of coffee, tried again. Still nothing. He sighed, frustrated, and closed the laptop, looking out over the porch railing at the stretch of sandy beach, and the endless blue of the ocean going on and on into the distance. He sat like that for a while longer, just enjoying the view.

Behind him, slowly, the house began to wake up. Peggy was soon banging around in the kitchen, wearing a ridiculously fuzzy sweater and neon purple leggings. Phillip was still in his pyjamas when he joined her, climbing onto a stool at the kitchen island, immersed in his handheld video game, mumbling a sleepy "Mornin, Dad," when Alex ruffled his hair and said cheerfully, "G'morning, sport!"

The shower was running in the downstairs bathroom, and soon Maria strolled in wearing jean shorts and a tank top, a towel wrapped around her wet hair.

"Whatcha cookin', Pegs?" she asked, kissing Phillip on the head and hopping up to sit on the counter.

"Pancakes." Peggy replied brightly, stirring more milk into her pancake batter.

Eliza joined them soon after, her hair messy from sleep. She was wearing blue bunny slippers, and Alex stifled a chuckle.

"So what's up today?" he asked instead.

"Maria and I are going into town to pick up some groceries." Eliza said. "Wanna come, Phillip?"

"Sure..." Phillip said, not taking his eyes off his video game. Eliza cocked an eyebrow at her son, her eyes finding Alex's. Alexander shrugged.

"I'm going down to the beach with Angie." Peggy said. "You, Hammy?"

"Ugh, I f-" Eliza looked at him warningly. "-really loathe that nickname." he corrected himself quickly, glancing over at Phillip. The corners of Maria's eyes crinkled in the corners with laughter. She gave a look that said, _nice save, pal._

"I'm gonna try and start writing." he continued.

"What's your new book about?" Eliza asked, propping her elbows on the counter and leaning forward curiously.

Alex shrugged. "No spoilers," he said, rather than saying that he hadn't a clue. He had a vague idea, but nothing very substantial. He hoped it would come to him as he went, the way _Hurricane_ had.

When he was writing _Hurricane_ , the words had just poured out of him, the book coming to life with every tap of a key. Now his book was a New York Times bestseller, published under a pseudonym. He was already in the public eye enough as Treasury Secretary.

He knew at the end of _Hurricane_ that it wasn't quite the end, that he was going to write a sequel. He just wasn't sure where he wanted the sequel to go just yet.

Angelica joined them an hour later, dressed and showered as if it wasn't nearly eleven o'clock, after all the pancakes had been devoured. Alex had washed his breakfast down with another cup of coffee, and now he was buzzing with caffeinated energy.

"Morning, sleeping beauty." he teased as Angelica downed the rest of the coffee straight from the coffee pot.

"Shut up, I'm on vacation." she shot back, grabbing a fruit cup from the fridge and disappearing upstairs again.

Alexander took his laptop out to the porch again, resolving himself to write down something before lunch, even if it was absolute shit and had to be rewritten.

He’d gotten about 500 words down and was in a good mood when a sleek, black, and probably very expensive, car pulled into the drive below, and a figure that was undeniably Thomas Jefferson climbed out of the drivers’ seat, completely ruining Alex’s good mood.

Angelica, who was sprawled on the beach, sunbathing with her little sister, sat up and waved to him as he began the trek up the path to the house.

Alex stood in the kitchen, a glower fixed on his face, when Thomas walked in.

“Hamilton.” Jefferson said tersely.

“Jefferson.” Alexander said in an equally icy tone.

Then a smirk crossed Jefferson’s tragically handsome features-really, such good looks were wasted on him, on account of him being such a huge dickhead-and he said, “So apparently we’re sharing a room?”

“Unfortunately.” Alexander replied. “Up the stairs, on your left, please leave me the hell alone.” and with that he turned on his heel and returned to where his laptop sat waiting on the porch. He got out another 20 words before Jefferson came out to join him.

“What are you working on? Another terribly incorrect essay about debt plans and bank policy?” Jefferson drawled, dropping down into a patio chair, his long legs stretched out lazily in front of him. Alexander noticed suddenly that Jefferson was wearing jeans. And a tshirt. His arms were bare, revealing rather impressive arm muscles. Alex dragged his gaze away. Thomas was smirking at him again, an annoying little twist of his lips.

“No.” Alex mumbled. “My new novel.”

“Really?” Thomas asked, straightening in his chair. “I've read _Hurricane_. It wasn't awful, surprisingly. Actually, it’s not a bad book. But the pseudonym? P. Publius? _Way_ too fucking pretentious, Hamilton.”

Alexander was staring at him. Thomas stared back. “What?”

“You've read my book?” _Thomas Jefferson read his book? And_ liked _it?_

Jefferson shrugged. “Yeah.”

“Huh.”

Eliza and Maria were back with their groceries by then, and Phillip bounded out onto the patio, tugging on Alexander’s arm and practically begging him to go down to the beach with him.

“Yeah, okay, okay, I'm coming, bud.” Alex said, chuckling a little at his son’s insistence.

“Phillip, honey, say hi to Thomas.” Eliza called from the kitchen.

Phillip looked over at Thomas shyly. “Hi.” he mumbled.

“Hey, Phillip.” Thomas said, his voice oddly gentle, a friendly smile on his face.

“Maybe Thomas could go down to the beach with you guys?” Maria suggested.

Hamilton bristled at the suggestion, but Phillip was smiling at Thomas now, and it's not like he'd be getting rid of Jefferson anytime soon, so he grudgingly agreed.

They went down to the beach and tossed the frisbee around, and Alexander definitely didn't stare when Thomas’s tshirt hitched up a bit when he jumped to catch a throw that went a little too high, revealing a sliver of smooth, dark skin and impressive abs.

Then Phillip ran around in the waves, whooping and hollering as he splashed through the surf, Alex watching him carefully, smiling faintly.

“God, I wish I still had that much energy.” Jefferson sighed, sitting down in the sand.

“BOYS! SUPPER!” Angelica shouted from the cottage.

“Ah, I guess we’d better go.” Jefferson said. Alex offered him a hand, and Thomas took it. “Such a gentlemen.” Thomas said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” Jefferson had really big, soft hands, Alex noticed. He started to help Jefferson up and then the taller man let himself go limp, grinning at Alex, who, taken by surprise at the sudden weight, was pulled down, landing sprawled half across Jefferson’s chest, half in the sand. Jefferson was laughing, and Alex felt Thomas’s chest shaking beneath his body, and then he was laughing too.

“That was...so mean.” Alexander complained, trying to catch his breath. There were tears streaming down Jefferson’s cheeks, and he was grinning broadly. Suddenly, he sat up, and Alex slid down into his lap.

“Get off me, you lazy lump.” Thomas teased, shoving at Alex until he stumbled to his feet.

“What, you aren't gonna help me?”

“You're a grown man, Thomas, surely you can get up by yourself.” Alexander shouted over his shoulder, already halfway back up the beach, Phillip bounding along ahead of him.

“Asshole.” Thomas muttered, getting to his feet, but he was smiling.

“Ugh. You're all full of sand!” Peggy cried when they tracked their way through the door.

“What's for dinner?” Alex exclaimed eagerly, ignoring Peggy, who looked at the sandy footprints they were leaving all over the floor with an expression of disgust.

“Frog legs and snakes’ eyes and chicken feet.” Maria said, a mischievous glint in her eye. Phillip stared at her wide-eyed with horror.

“Hamburgers and salad.” Eliza told them, giving Maria a disapproving look. Maria laughed, patting Phillip’s unruly curls. “I'm just joking, hon.” she assured him.

Angelica was out on the porch, chatting with Thomas, so Alex helped Peggy, Eliza, and Maria carry the food and plates and condiments out to the patio table.

“No politics at the table.” Angelica warned Alexander and Thomas, spooning salad onto her plate.

“Of course not.” Thomas said easily.

“Ah, but what about the new treaty with France? Do you think we should sign, Thomas?” Alex asked jokingly.

Angelica jabbed her fork toward him. “No way. I'm on vacation, Alex.”

“Yeah, I know, you keep reminding me.” Alex said cheekily.

“Phillip, honey, what are you doing?” Eliza cried. Alex glanced down the table. Phillip was pouring ketchup onto his salad.

“Ew, Phillip.” Peggy exclaimed, making a face.

“I don't know, look delicious to me.” Alex said, winking at his son. Eliza swatted his arm. “Don't encourage him. He's making a mess!”

Alex turned back to Thomas, and burst out laughing.

“What?” Jefferson demanded. “What’s so funny?”

“You've, ah, got a little somethin’ there.” Alex said, gesturing at his chin, which was smeared with mustard.

Face flushing, Thomas mopped at his face with a napkin, then looked at Alex questioningly. Alex nodded. “Yeah, you're good.”

After dinner, Thomas stayed downstairs to have a cup of coffee with Angelica and Peggy, so Alex went upstairs to take a shower. He was readying the bed when Thomas came upstairs.

“What are you doing?” Thomas asked, raising his eyebrows as he took in the scene before him. Alexander had removed all the extra pillows from the bed and was dividing the bed in two with a barrier made of the pillows.

“Your side.” Alex explained, pointing to one side of his pillow barrier. “My side.”

“Alexander.” Thomas said, exasperated. Hamilton glared at him when Thomas used his first name. Unwilling to argue with him further, Thomas grabbed his pyjamas and went to shower.

When he returned, wearing sweatpants and a tank top, his hair pulled back in a poofy ponytail, Alexander was sitting on his side of the bed, wearing a pair of glasses with chunky black frames, his long hair pulled up into a bun atop his head, squinting at something on his phone.

Thomas grinned at him. “What's that on your head?” he teased, reaching out and tugging on Alex’s bun.

Alex slapped at his hand, giving him an irritated glare.

Thomas jumped into bed, pulling all the covers onto his side.

“Gimme those-” Alex muttered. “Stop hogging the blankets, asshole.” He tugged the covers back onto his side, and that went on back and forth until Jefferson accidentally slapped Hamilton’s glasses clean off his face, making Alex curse aloud and Jefferson to burst out laughing.

“Sorry,” he wheezed.

Alex retrieved his glasses and leaned over the pillow barrier, glasses askew on his nose. Jefferson, still grinning, stared up at him. He looked really different with his hair up. “Go to bed, asshole.” he said, and then switched off the light.

Jefferson was still chuckling quietly when Alexander drifted asleep.

 

Hamilton woke with the pillow barrier between him and Jefferson basically demolished. He made to sit up, but he was pinned underneath Jefferson’s arm. Somehow, the asshole had rolled over in his sleep and now had his arm thrown over Alexander.

“God, get off me, you oaf.” Alexander mumbled, wriggling out of Jefferson’s grip. Not waiting to see if he'd woken Thomas, Alex scurried to the bathroom to take a shower.

He was downstairs helping Peggy with breakfast when Jefferson finally dragged himself down the stairs, still in his pyjamas.

“You snore.” he complained to Alex.

“Well, you drool.” Hamilton shot back.

“I do not.” Jefferson sniffed indignantly.

“So, you guys slept well.” Peggy said, words dripping with sarcasm.

“Terribly.” Alexander lied. Jefferson snorted in agreement.

“What d’you say to a beach day today?” Peggy asked. “Weather looks good.”

Alex dipped a finger in the pancake batter and licked it. “Mmm. Sure.” He danced out of Peggy’s reach when she caught him trying to lick the spoon.

“I mean, I should be working on my book,” Alex said, hopping into a chair beside Jefferson. “But a beach day sounds fun.”

“Oh, come on, Alex. I can't believe you want to work while we’re on vacation.” Peggy rolled her eyes at him.

“Pegs, that's-that's what I do. That's how I relax. I write.”

Peggy just scoffed and shook her head at him.

“Seriously?” Jefferson asked, turning to look at Alex. “You don't do anything else? You just...write?”

Alex shrugged. “What else is there to do?” he said.

“Literally anything else.” Jefferson retorted. “Besides going to the beach you've been glued to your laptop the whole time we’ve been here.”

“That's what I do though. That's...that's all I am. I'm just a writer.” Alex protested, spreading his hands despondently.

“You're impossible.” Thomas sighed.

Once everyone was up, dressed, and ready, they traipsed down to the beach. Alex was lugging the heavy cooler, and his arm muscles, or lack thereof, were burning.

“Want me to carry that?” Jefferson asked. Alex glared up at him. “No. I got it,” he said through gritted teeth.

As soon as he set the cooler down, Alex flopped down into the sand, exhausted. “Ugh, my arms are killing me.” he groaned.

Thomas rolled his eyes at Alex. “Well, I could've carried it.”

“I don't need your help.” Alex snapped at him.

“Dad! Dad, c’mon, let’s go swimming!” Phillip cried, bouncing from foot to foot impatiently. Alex felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, okay, I'm coming, little man.”

Behind him, Eliza and Maria were setting up their beach chairs, and Peggy had laid out a towel so she could tan. Angelica was trying to get Phillip to sit still long enough to put some sunscreen on him.

Thomas had stripped off his shirt, and Alex stood there mesmerized for a brief moment by his muscled torso, and then he tore his eyes away.

_Did he actually just blank out for a minute there because of Thomas Jefferson’s abs?_

Feeling a blush start to heat his cheeks, he turned away and peeled off his own shirt, feeling more than a little self-conscious as he followed Phillip into the water.

“It's freezing!” he gasped. Phillip giggled and splashed him.

“Oh, you are going to regret that, kid.” Alex said, his teeth chattering. His dripping-wet hair hung in his face, and he dragged a hand through it, pulling a hair tie off his wrist and tying it back.

“Ooh, he's putting his hair up, Phillip, it's about to get nasty.” Angelica said teasingly, joining them in the water.

Alex gave a short, sharp laugh and splashed her too for good measure.

“Ack!” Ange spluttered, and then she fixed him with a steely glare. “Oh, it's on, Alex.”

The splash war was followed by a sand castle building contest between Phillip and Eliza and Alexander and Maria. Maria was surprisingly competitive when it came to sand castle contests, and when they were finished, their castle had four turrets, a courtyard, and a moat.

Eliza and Phillip’s was a lump of sand with a few pieces of sea glass stuck in it in an attempt to make it look better in comparison.

“Ugh, we admit defeat.” Eliza groaned. “Who wants lunch?”

“Oh, me!” Phillip cried, jumping up. Hamilton followed them back up the beach to where Peggy, Angelica, and Thomas were stretched out on their towels. Alex made sure to kick sand onto Jefferson when he walked by, relishing the other man’s grunt of disgust.

Eliza handed out sandwiches and drinks. Phillip finished his sandwich in record time and went to search for seashells. Alex reclined back on his towel, enjoying the food and the sunshine, and though he hated to admit it, he did enjoy the few glimpses he got of Thomas’s lean, muscular body whenever he stretched or reached for another sandwich.

Even though the sun was obscured by a cloud, Maria was slathering Eliza’s pale shoulders in sunscreen. “Do you want skin cancer?” Alex heard her scold, and he smiled to himself.

“Maria, I'm not going to get skin cancer.” Eliza laughed. Her laugh was a musical sound, a sound that could completely lift your spirits in the same way seeing a rainbow or receiving a compliment would. Alex missed hearing that laugh.

But Maria made Eliza happy, and he wanted to see her happy. He didn't even feel jealous when Eliza kissed Maria’s cheek, or when Maria called Eliza ‘baby.’ It wasn't like he'd lost Eliza. As long as they had Phillip they were bound together, out of commitment to their son. His son.

Even as he was thinking of Phillip, the boundless ball of energy that the boy was was darting back toward them begging Alex to go play frisbee with him.

“Okay, okay, buddy. I'm coming.” Alexander chuckled, getting to his feet and slipping on his sandals. He'd shrugged his tshirt back on, and a pair of sunglasses were perched on his nose. His hair hung in a loose ponytail, a few stray strands blowing back into his face. The outfit made him feel a little bit like a suburban father at a barbecue, except that his shirt read _The Bags Under My Eyes Are Designer._ That wasn't very barbecue dad-ish. He squinted up at the sky. A few dark grey clouds were gathering.

“Looks like our beach day might get cut short.” he observed.

“Dad, c’mon!” Phillip pleaded, tugging on Alex’s arm.

They tossed the frisbee back and forth a few times, and the sky grew steadily darker.

A cold, wet drop of rain landed on Alex’s forehead. Then another. And another, and another, and then it was pouring. Peggy shrieked, leaping up and gathering up all the towels. Eliza was shoving things back into their bags and coolers, and Maria and Angelica were fighting with the beach chairs, which were refusing to fold. Alex and Phillip raced over to help, and soon they were all scurrying back up toward the house, Alex lugging a towel bag. Jefferson had insisted on taking the cooler.

They were all dripping wet when they piled through the door. Alex’s hair had come loose from his ponytail and was soaking wet. He raked a hand through it, trying to get it out of his eyes. His sunglasses were speckled with droplets of water.

“Well, that's kind of a bummer.” Eliza remarked, peering out the window. The rain was really pouring now, thrumming against the roof of the cottage.

“Let's dry off and then we can watch a movie.” Maria suggested.

Alex was changing into a clean shirt when Jefferson came into the bedroom.

He looked uncomfortable at the sight of Alexander with his shirt only half-on. “Oh, sorry, I can wait in the hall-”

Alex frowned at him. “It's fine.” He made to grab his glasses off the bedside table where he'd left them.

“Wait, is that a Gryffindor shirt?” Jefferson said suddenly. Alex looked down at his attire. A pair of old sweatpants, and a baggy red tshirt with a faded Gryffindor crest. “Yep.” he answered.

“And I thought you couldn't possibly be any more irritating.” Jefferson sighed with a shake of his head.

“What? Why? Which house are you in?” Alex demanded.

“Slytherin, duh.”

“Of course. I should've known you'd be in the house whose emblem is a _snake_.”

“Snakes are symbolic of ambition and wisdom.” Jefferson argued.

“Yeah, and deceit.” Alex shot back.

Jefferson was quick with his counter-argument. “Slytherin gets a bad rep. Merlin himself was a Slytherin.”

“You know who else was in Slytherin? Voldemort.” Alexander retorted.

“Peter Pettigrew was in Gryffindor.”

And so it went, back and forth, all the way until they reached the sitting room.

Maria and the three Schuyler sisters were sitting on the futon sipping Palm Bays, and Phillip was looking through the stack of DVDs.

“What are we watching, little man?” Alex asked, crouching beside his son. “Ooh, Indiana Jones, Jaws, Jurassic Park, King Kong, Ghostbusters, E.T, The Goonies, Back To The Future, Star Wars...you guys have all the classics.”

“You're a nerd.” Angelica said.

“Star Wars Episode III is the best.” Thomas said matter-of-factly. Alex whirled on him, eyes wide with shock. “The _prequels_?” he growled.

“Oh, here we go.” Eliza muttered. “Are you two incapable of being civil toward each other for two minutes?”

“No.” Thomas and Alex snapped in unison, then glared at each other.

“What's Back To The Future?” Phillip inquired, and the impending argument was forgotten as Alex lit up like a Christmas tree, bouncing on the balls of his feet eagerly as he tried to explain, “It's about this boy, Marty McFly, who has a friend who is kinda like a mad scientist and he builds-”

“-a time machine out of a car. It's about a time machine.” Thomas interrupts.

“Sounds cool.” Phillip muses. “Let's watch that.”

They watch the movie, and for a brief two hours Alex is lost in the story. The world outside the cozy sitting room doesn't exist any more. The cloudy sky and the rain don't exist any more.

Thomas is just as into it as Alexander is. Alex glimpses him mouthing along to _Johnny B. Goode_ , and it makes him smile, which he feels like he should question—since when does Thomas Jefferson make him smile?—but Marty and Doc are rigging up their lightning rod to power the DeLorean and, frankly, he'd rather focus on that.

After the movie, Alex helped Eliza with dinner, which was a pasta salad, French fries, and what's left of their sandwiches from lunch.

He and Thomas resumed their earlier argument about the original Star Wars trilogy versus the prequels—Hamilton was winning, mostly because he was too stubborn to admit that Hayden Christensen’s bad acting is merely a result of terrible writing and not a reflection of his own acting skills.

Dinner was finished, and Alex retreated upstairs to shower and get ready for bed. It was then that it occurred to him that he hadn't written a word all day.

Well. It was only 8:00. He still had time.

After a hurried shower, he climbed into bed and booted up his laptop. He opened the document, which contained less than 2,000 words. He read over what he'd written, wrinkled his nose, and promptly deleted it.

The blank document seemed stare back at him disapprovingly as he sat there waiting for inspiration.

“So what's this new book about?” Jefferson asked, entering the room.

“The hell if I know.” Alex muttered.

“What’d you mean you don't know?” Jefferson demanded, clambering into bed beside Alex and peering over his shoulder at the laptop screen. “Writer’s block?” he said sympathetically.

“Fuck off, Jefferson, I’m trying to concentrate.” Alex mumbled, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. “Goddamn it. This vacation was supposed to be an opportunity for me to get some work done on this.”

“Hey. Take a break.” Thomas urged, and he took the laptop from Alex and closed it.

“What are you doing? Hey! You can't just-”

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance, and Alex broke off, feeling panic start to flood him. He glanced toward the window. The curtains were drawn back, and he could see the stormy night sky, see the white-capped waves, tossed around by the howling wind, crashing on the beach. The rain was coming down harder than ever.

Thomas let out a low whistle. “Some storm.” he said.

The dark sky was sliced in half by a sudden white flash of lightning, and Alex had to fight to keep his breathing even. His heart had started to speed up.

“Hamilton? Are you okay?” Jefferson’s voice asked, but Alex wasn't seeing the cottage bedroom or Thomas anymore. He was seeing the ruins of houses torn apart by the storm, the bodies of his friends and neighbours being swept away by the floods, by the never-ending rain.

He was vaguely aware that he’d started to hyperventilate, his breaths coming too fast, too shallow.

Someone was rubbing his back, wrapping warm, strong arms around him. He resisted at first, because the voice he heard murmuring, “It's okay, Alexander, you're safe,” was the voice of Thomas Jefferson, and something told him he didn't want Thomas Jefferson to be the one holding him right now, he didn't want to be seen like this by Jefferson.

Then thunder boomed once more, and he let out a whimper, burying himself against Jefferson’s chest.

The arms tightened around him, and Alex didn't remember much else after that.

When Alexander woke, his head was on Jefferson's chest, Thomas' arms wrapped around him. Which was...kinda nice, he had to admit, snuggling a little closer to Jefferson's warm body. That's when everything came rushing back. "Oh, no." he grumbled, wriggling out of Jefferson's tight hold.

“Alexander?” Jefferson asked, his Southern accent thicker than usual with sleep. “What time is it?”

Alex grabbed his phone, checked the time. “Three A.M.”

“Fuck...go back to sleep.” Jefferson mumbled, rolling over so that his back was to Alex.

But once Alex was awake, he was awake.

“Hey. Jefferson.” he said in a loud whisper. “Hey, wake up.” He shook Thomas’s shoulder.

“What?” came the annoyed reply.

“Do you think zoo animals are sad because they live in captivity?”

Thomas didn't reply immediately, and Alex hoped he hadn't fallen asleep again.

Then, “Zoo animals are well cared for, so no.”

“Well cared for? They live in enclosures way too small for them, a lot of them are doped up so that they don't attack people.”

“Yeah. Because they attack people.”

“Only because they’re stressed from being locked in a cage and gawked at all day!”

They argued until the sun came up. Hamilton felt invigorated by the debate, more awake than he would've felt had he actually gotten a full night’s sleep for once.

He brushed his hair, put his contacts in, and threw on some clean clothes. When he went to grab his laptop and head downstairs, Jefferson was asleep again, drooling all over his pillow.

“Oh, this is gold.” Alex muttered to himself, pulling out his phone and snapping a quick picture. Then he went to make some coffee.

When Jefferson finally shuffled into the kitchen, even Angelica was up.

Alexander was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee by his elbow, eyes fixed on the blank document with determination.

“We’re going to the boardwalk today,” Peggy announced, flouncing into the kitchen. Her sundress was a bright enough shade of orange that it made Alex’s eyes hurt. “To go shopping.” She was practically jumping up and down with excitement.

“What are you supposed to be, a traffic cone?” Alex snorted. “Nah, I'm kidding, Pegs. You look nice, as usual.” Peggy’s offended expression became something pleased but still annoyed.

Jefferson was looking more like a person and less like a zombie with every sip of coffee. “Shopping sounds fun.”

“Wanna come?” Peggy invited. “What about you, Alex? Are you really gonna sit here staring at the computer all day?”

“Yeah, I guess I'll come. I'm not getting anything done anyway.” Alex grumbled.

“Great!” Peggy clapped her hands fervently, beaming at them. “This is gonna be so fun!”

“So fun.” Alex muttered in agreement, silently contemplating throwing his laptop out the window. He hadn't written a single word since arriving at the cottage, and he was going mad with frustration.

  
When they arrived at the boardwalk, it was bustling with tourists.

Jefferson paled at the sight of the huge crowd of people milling around the promenade.

“You alright?” Alex asked him. The others were already halfway across the parking lot, but Jefferson hadn't budged.

“That's...a lot of people.” Jefferson said, and he sounded vaguely horrified.

Alex didn't even think twice about it—he just took one of Thomas’s shaking hands in his own.

“C’mon.” he said gently, and Thomas followed, his grip on Alex’s hand tightening slightly as they weaved through the crowd.

The first shop was just a bunch of gaudy keepsake gifts and souvenir tshirts. Peggy had found a pair of sunglasses shaped like seashells and was parading around the store wearing them. Phillip was begging Maria to buy him shark tooth necklace.

“This all tourist crap.” Alex complained. Thomas was looking more at ease now, and let go of Alex’s hand to try on a baseball cap.

“We are tourists.” he pointed out. The cap made his curly hair poof out at the sides.

Alex just scoffed and started looking through a rack of tshirts.

“Ha! Look at this one!” he exclaimed, holding up a shirt that read, _Life's A Beach_. He was always a slut for punny tshirts.

Thomas smiled and started looking at all the size tags. “Shit, I don't think it comes in extra-extra short.” he teased, resting his elbow on Alexander’s head.

Alex rolled his eyes and shrugged him off. “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

They left the shop laden with purchases. Alex, having given in to his status as a tourist, had bought the tshirt and several woven bracelets, which he was currently wearing.

When they left the shop, Thomas slid his hand into Alex’s, looking down at him nervously. Alex squeezed his hand reassuringly. Thomas had nice hands, he noticed once again with admiration when he glanced down at their intertwined fingers. Big, soft, with long, graceful fingers.

He'd been admiring Jefferson a lot lately, he realized. His hair, his hands, his body...sure, he hated the guy, but that didn't mean he didn't find him attractive. Because he was very attractive.

They hit a few more shops, and then Phillip wanted ice cream.

Alex examined the flavour list with furrowed brows. “Wowie Cowie? Gooey Mooie?” he read aloud, incredulous. “I am not going up to the counter and ordering any of these flavours with a straight face.”

Beside him, Jefferson snorted.

“You shut up,” Alex told him with a playful smile, bumping his hip against Thomas’s. Well, against his thigh, since he was considerably taller.

They got their ice cream—Alex ordered plain, regular chocolate because he was stubborn—and began the walk back to the car.

Phillip was scurrying along beside Angelica, telling ‘Auntie Angie’ excitedly about something involving an elderly man and a seagull. Maria had her arm around Eliza’s waist.

Alex was still holding Thomas’s hand, and they were arguing about whether chocolate or vanilla ice cream was better.

When they reached the car, he found that he didn't want to let go of Thomas’s hand. It was with reluctance that he did so.

“Hey, Hamilton?” Jefferson asked. “Thanks.”

Alex felt himself smile. “Sure.”

  
While Maria made dinner, Alexander took his laptop out onto the porch. No work got done, once again, but only because Phillip wanted to play computer games and Alex wouldn't pass up on a chance to spend time with his son. Thomas had gone down to the beach with Angelica for a swim, and Alex could make out his lean form carving a path through the waves.

“Dad,” Phillip asked suddenly. “Do you like Thomas?”

“What do you mean?” Alex inquired, caught off guard and a little bewildered by his son’s question.

“Like, like-like him,” Phillip clarified.

“Um, no, I can't say I do. Thomas and I...we fight a lot. Argue is maybe a better word.”

Phillip seemed dissatisfied with this answer. “Well, you were holding his hand today. And sometimes you look at him the way my moms look at each other.”

Alex didn't quite know how to reply to that. Had he really been making eyes at Jefferson? If Phillip had noticed, had the others?

More importantly, did he really hate Jefferson? They never agreed on anything, had differing opinions on everything, but did that mean Alex hated him? Wanting to hold his hand and thinking him attractive were indicative of something a lot different than loathing.

If Alex did have some kind of-of crush on Thomas, surely it would go away with time, and they'd go back to fighting the way they always did. A few odd urges wouldn't just erase years worth of disagreements.

Jefferson saw him as nothing more than an enemy.

  
“Hey, Thomas?” They were lying in bed, and Alex couldn't sleep.

“It's after midnight, Alexander, this had better be good.” Jefferson muttered.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Once. Senior year. Her name was Martha. You?”

“Twice.” He'd loved Eliza and John.

He'd lost them both.

“That whole true love thing is bullshit.” Alex mumbled into his pillow.

There was a rustle of blankets, and Thomas turned over so that his face was right next to Alex’s. “How can you not believe in true love?”

“It's...an idea. Something from fairytales and stories that they tell people to give them hope.”

Thomas arched an eyebrow. “And hope is bad?”

“False hope is, yes.” Alex responded, his tone decisive. “And it's not probable that there's only one person out there for us.”

“Why not?”

Jefferson wasn't even arguing with him, just egging him on, and that only succeeded in making Alex more fired up.

As exhilarating as debating with Thomas was, before long he found himself drifting off to sleep.

When he woke, Jefferson had an arm thrown around him, his body curled around Alex’s. He must've gravitated toward Alex in his sleep.

Alex reached for his phone, careful not to move too much and disturb Thomas.

It was only 6 A.M. Usually Alex wasn't one to stay in bed—he was usually up at the crack of dawn.

But if he moved, he risked waking Jefferson. Plus, he was kind of enjoying being so close to him. Thomas’s head was on his pillow, and Alex could feel his slow breaths against the back of his neck.

So he logged into his Twitter on his phone and started scrolling through, even though it was probably wasting his data. The cottage didn't have wifi, which annoyed him greatly.

He didn't even realize almost an hour and a half had passed, and Thomas was beginning to stir beside him.

“Mm...Hamilton?” Thomas sounded almost confused.

“Oh, you're finally awake. Please release me.” Alex said. Thomas removed his arm, turned over, and fell back asleep. Alex felt suddenly cold. He kicked off the covers and went to shower. He was dressed, his damp hair pulled into a bun, and was trying to put his contacts in when Jefferson appeared in the bathroom doorway, in the process of changing his shirt. Alex nearly dropped his contact down the sink.

“Not that my opinion matters to you—” Thomas started to say. He looked more awake now, but his accent was still thicker than usual.

“No, it really doesn't,” Alex interrupted.

“Would you let me finish?” Jefferson sighed, frustrated. “I was gonna say that I find you look nice in glasses,” he finished, sounding a little awkward.

Alex chuckled. “Are you trying to compliment me?”

“’Course not.” Jefferson scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “All I'm saying is that you look less like a troll with your glasses on.” Then he reached out and tugged Alex’s hair tie out. “And with your hair down.”

“Well, thank you.” Alex grinned. When Jefferson started downstairs, he left his unused contacts on the bathroom counter, went into the bedroom, and grabbed his glasses off the nightstand.

And he left his hair down.

  
When he entered the kitchen, he perked up instantly. Someone had put the coffee pot on. Thomas was watching Peggy stir a pan of scrambled eggs, a coffee mug in his hands. Alex poured himself a cup.

“Should I fry some bacon, Pegs?” he asked.

“Sure,” she replied. Alex grabbed a package of bacon and a frying pan, aware of Thomas’s eyes on him as he searched the drawers for a spatula.

Maria, woken by the smell of coffee and frying bacon, stumbled into the kitchen, wearing Eliza’s blue bunny slippers.

“Phillip not up yet? That's weird,” she observed, changing course and heading toward Phillip’s room. She came running back a moment later, eyes wide.

“Maria, what's wrong?” Alex demanded, dropping his spatula.

“Phillip’s not in his bed.” she said, voice shaky with worry. “Where is he? This isn't like him at all.”

“I didn't see him in the sitting room.” Thomas said, setting his coffee cup down on the counter.

“Peggy, go wake Angelica and check the upstairs rooms. Maria, wake Eliza. Thomas and I can check the other rooms. He’s probably hiding somewhere to play a joke on us or something. He's a funny kid.” Alex rattled off the set of orders, trying to keep his voice from trembling with fear.

They searched the whole cottage, but Phillip was nowhere to be found. Eliza looked like she was seconds away from bursting into tears.

“Alexander, where could he be? Where's our son?” she murmured desperately, clinging to his arm.

“Did you check the beach?” Angelica asked.

Maria shook her head. “He knows not to go down there without an adult.”

“He seemed pretty excited to go swimming today,” Angelica shrugged.

A whispered, “Oh, God,” escaped Alexander’s lips. He didn't wait to see if the others were following when he threw the door open and took off running down the path to the beach.

A small, prone form was stretched out on the sand, legs dragging in the water like the little body had been washed up on the shore.

“Phillip. Oh, God. Oh, my God. No. No, no, no!” Alex collapsed to his knees in the sand beside his son’s motionless body. He was dressed in his swimming trunks, his hair was wet and sticking to his pale face.

Somewhere behind him, Eliza let out a strangled scream.

“His pulse, check his pulse.” Jefferson’s voice ordered.

With shaking hands, Alex felt for Phillip’s pulse.

“Oh, thank God,” he whispered. His pulse was there, faint, but steady.

“Do any of you know CPR?” Thomas called.

“Peggy. Peggy took lifeguard classes.” Alex remembered suddenly. Peggy hurried forward, and Thomas put his hands under Alex’s shoulders, hoisted him up, dragged him gently out of Peggy’s way.

“Oh, God, please don't let him die.” Alex was crying now, unable to watch as Peggy attempted to breathe the life back into his son. He buried his face against Thomas’s chest, and Thomas put his arms around him.

The sounds of Peggy counting to thirty under her breath faded away. Alex pictured Phillip, his bright, beautiful son, so full of energy.

And then all could see was Phillip’s motionless body, his face pale, his lips blue, all of the energy sucked out of him, leaving a hollow, half-dead shell.

“What do I do if he doesn't make it?” Alex sobbed. “How will I...how am I supposed to...go on? He's only nine. He's only nine years old.”

“Ssh, he's gonna be okay. He's gonna be okay, Alex.” Thomas replied, hugging Alex closer.

“Guys!” Peggy cried, immediately followed the sound of choked coughing. Alexander all but shoved Thomas away, racing to his son’s side.

“Phillip!” he cried, pulling Phillip into a hug and cradling him against his chest.

“Dad?” Phillip rasped.

Eliza threw her arms around the both of them, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Phillip, what were you thinking?”

“Mom? I'm so sorry...I just wanted to—”

“It's okay. It's okay, Phillip. Just never do that again, understand? You had us all worried sick.” Alexander murmured, pressing kisses to his son’s forehead again and again.

Maria was holding Eliza’s hand, stroking her free hand through Phillip’s hair.

“Mom? Dad? Mom?” Phillip asked hesitantly.

“What, baby? What is it, hon?” Maria asked softly.

“Can we...can we go home? Like, back up to the house? I'm cold. And tired.”

“Of course, sweetie, of course,” Eliza said with a relieved laugh.

“I'll carry him.” Alex said, scooping Phillip into his arms, holding him close to his chest. Phillip’s eyes had fluttered shut, but his breathing was steady, even. Slowly, Alex began the trek back up to the cottage. Eliza and Maria walked at his side, keeping a careful eye on their son. His son.

He carried Phillip all the way to his room, laid him down in bed, and tucked the covers in around him. He stroked a hand over Phillip’s hair, kissed Eiza gently on the cheek, and left the room so she and Maria could sit with Phillip for a bit, alone.

His coffee had gone cold, but Angelica had put another pot on.

“You okay?” she asked gently. Alex shook his head.

“My kid almost died,” he snapped. “I'm sorry, that...that sounded meaner than it should have. I'm just...I mean, Phillip almost died and—”

Angelica wrapped her arms around him, pulled him to her chest. It was an almost motherly gesture, and he relaxed into her embrace.

“He's gonna be okay. Peggy's gonna phone a doctor just to be safe.”

“Thanks, Ange.” he mumbled.

“I'm gonna check on Eliza.” Angelica told him. She kissed his forehead, then she disappeared down the hall to Phillip’s room.

Alex was pouring a fresh cup of coffee when Jefferson came in.

“Are you—”

“I'm fine.” Alex said tersely. “I'm a lot more worried about Phillip, yet everybody’s asking me if I'm okay. My son almost died—” His voice broke, and tears began to cloud his vision.

Thomas had his arms around Alex again, his chin resting on Alex’s head. “Okay. Ssh. It's okay. How is Phillip?”

“Eliza and Ange are with him.” Alex mumbled into Thomas’s chest. He was getting a lot of hugs this morning.

Thomas released him, and Alex did his best to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“I can't imagine what this must be like...you must be scared.” Thomas murmured. It almost sounded like he was talking more to himself than to Alex.

“Phillip wasn't even...planned. But I love him. Oh, God, I love him so much.” Alex found himself saying. “If anything happened to him, I'd die.”

There was a pause, an almost awkward silence. “Thanks.” Alex finally said.

A crease appeared between Thomas’s brows. “What for?”

“You...you stayed calm back there. When we found him. I was...I was kinda a mess.”

Thomas chuckled softly. “Yeah, just a little bit.” Alex felt himself smile when Thomas laughed.

Impulsively, he leaned forward, stretching up on his tiptoes to press a hasty kiss to Thomas’s cheek. He didn't wait to see Thomas’s reaction, fleeing upstairs to find his laptop.

He finally had an idea for his story.

He was perched, cross-legged, on the end of the bed, typing frenziedly, when Thomas entered the bedroom. He was leaning in the doorway, silently watching Alex type.

“Sudden burst of inspiration?” Thomas asked. Alex nodded, not looking up from his laptop.

“Alexander, I need to ask you something, and I'd appreciate it if you'd look up from that computer.” Thomas’s voice was a little shaky. He sounded upset.

Slowly, Alex looked up and met his eyes. “Yeah, what's up?” Jefferson’s face was unreadable.

“That kiss. Did that mean something?” There was something a little bit like hope in Thomas’s eyes. Alex felt his heart speed up a little.

“Yes.” he managed to get out.

Jefferson took a step closer to him. “What did it mean?”

“I'm...I like you. As in, like-like.” Alex said, feeling his face heat up with an embarrassed blush. “Sorry. That wasn't very eloquent. I have a nine year old kid.” He shrugged apologetically.

Jefferson was only a few inches away from him now. “Well, I like you too.” His voice was low, barely louder than a whisper.

Alex didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed the front of Jefferson’s shirt, tugging him in and mashing their mouths together. Jefferson leaned into him, his hands resting on Alex’s hips as he kissed back with something that could only be described as enthusiasm. Thomas’s lips parted under Alex’s, and Alex slipped his tongue in, relishing the little gasp Thomas gave. Alex’s tongue roamed Thomas’s mouth hungrily. When he pulled away, Jefferson was staring at him, breathless, pupils blown wide, cheeks rosy.

He looked, for lack of a better word, speechless.

"Well, that's a first. Thomas Jefferson has nothing to say to me." Alex smirked, and something crossed Jefferson's face, his eyes burning as he lunged forward, pinning Alex on his back onto the bed, kissing him again and again and again. His hands were splayed on either side of Alex's head, elbows bent as he dipped his head to press kisses to Alex's neck, his jaw, his collarbone.

Alex let out a low whine of pleasure, and Jefferson grinned smugly against the tender skin of his throat. “You like that?” he whispered.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Oh, _fuck_ , you're the worst. But, please, continue.”

Thomas’s grin widened, and he pressed his lips against Alex’s neck, just under his jaw, biting and nipping at the skin.

“Thomas, you're gonna leave a mark,” Alexander complained.

Alex tilted his head, pressing kisses along Thomas’s stubble-lined jaw, and Thomas relented in his attack on Alex’s neck. Alex was kissing everywhere except Thomas’s mouth, and Thomas was growing frustrated.

Alex’s hands were playing with the hem of Thomas’s tshirt, and he slid them up under the thin cotton fabric, running them over Thomas’s firm stomach, across his back. Thomas shivered under his touch.

“Alex?” Angelica’s voice called. Footsteps sounded on the stairs, and Thomas pulled away, sitting up quickly and fixing his shirt, which had ridden up.

Alex’s glasses had been knocked askew, and he adjusted them, rolling off the bed and meeting Ange in the hallway.

“What's up?” he asked.

“Phillip’s asking for you. Is Thomas in there with you?” Angelica inquired suspiciously.

“Yeah,” Alex said quickly, ducking around her and raking his hands through his hair hurriedly as he raced downstairs.

“He keeps asking for you.” Eliza explained. She was on her way out of Phillip’s room, her hand on the doorknob of the closed door.

“Okay.” Alex nodded. “You should get some rest. Eat something. You've been with him since this morning.” he told her, taking her hand in his.

Eliza nodded, and Alex slipped past her into his son’s bedroom.

“Dad!” Phillip was sitting up in bed, and some of his energy seemed to have returned.

“Hey, little man.” Alex chuckled, sitting down on the edge of Phillip’s bed. His son promptly crawled into his lap, and Hamilton pulled him into a hug.

“I'm sorry about this morning.” Phillip mumbled.

“It's okay, bud. I'm just glad you're okay.” Alex told him. “Wanna play a videogame or something? Or are you too tired?”

Phillip shook his head. “Can we play MarioKart?”

“I suck at MarioKart,” Alex groaned.

“Yeah, that's why I wanna play. You're easy to beat.” Phillip teased.

Alex carried him out to the sitting room, despite his protests that he could walk by himself, and turned the Xbox on.

“Hey, Phillip? Can I tell you a secret?” Alex asked, steering his little green character around a banana peel. “Wait, what's this dude’s name again?”

“Yoshi, Dad.” Phillip replied, exasperated. “And your secret will be safe with me.”

“Okay, well, you know how you asked me if I liked Thomas?” Phillip nodded. He was in 2nd place. Alex was in 10th. “And you know how sometimes I can be a little slow with things, cause I'm an old guy.”

Phillip rolled his eyes. “Dad, you're not even thirty. But yeah. Why?”

“Well, turns out I do like Thomas. And I think he likes me.”

“Cool. So are you gonna date him? Am I gonna have two dads and two moms?” Phillip asked excitedly.

“I dunno yet, buddy. Sometimes this sorta thing takes a little bit of time.”

“I, for one, would not be opposed to you dating me.”

Alex looked up. Thomas was peeking through the sitting room doorway.

“Hi.” Alexander said, unable to keep a smile off his face.

Phillip made a face at them. “Ew, you guys are gonna get all gross and romantic now, right?”

“I see Phillip’s feeling better.” Thomas said, returning Alex’s smile.

Alex shrugged. “Eh, he's recovering from his near-death experience.”

“I didn't even die!” Phillip protested. “Oh, Dad, you just lost the race!”

“Aw, shoot.”

“You're really sh-bad at this game, Hamilton.” Thomas said, taking a seat on the couch beside Alex. “Can I play a round, Phillip?”

Phillip looked over at him. “Are you better than my dad? Because he sucks.”

“Yeah, I'm better than your dad at everything.” Thomas said teasingly. Alex punched his upper arm lightly. “You shut up.” he muttered, but he handed over the controller.

In the third lap, Thomas was in first place, and Phillip was in second. As they neared the finish line, Thomas swerved deliberately into the path of a green shell so that Phillip could pass him.

“That was nice,” Alex murmured to him. Thomas responded by kissing Alex’s temple lightly. Alex hummed happily and rested his head on Thomas’s shoulder.

“Hey, did I mention I had an idea for my book?” Alex said suddenly. Thomas and Phillip were halfway through their next race.

“You did not. So what's it about?”

“John falls in love with the villain’s husband.” John was the name of his main character, after John Laurens, which was maybe a little cheesy, but Alex didn't really care. “No spoilers, though.”

“Well, no, of course not. Are you gonna let me read all your drafts?” Thomas asked eagerly.

“Wow, you really liked _Hurricane_ , didn't you?”

Thomas shrugged. “Well, it would've been better if you'd let me proofread it too.”

“Ha-ha. Oh, watch out for that banana peel!” Alex cried. “Maybe...maybe I'll of dedicate the book to you.” he said quietly a few moments later. “I mean, if this...us...works out.”

“Wait...seriously?” Thomas asked, dropping his controller. “You want to dedicate your book to me?”

“If you don't want me to, I won't.” Alex said quickly, worried that he'd said something wrong. Thomas was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“No, I'm not...wow. You want to dedicate your book to me.”

That's what the expression on Thomas’s face was: awe, and something a little bit like gratitude.

Alexander kissed him, quickly, chastely. “You do want this, right? Us?” Alex asked him tentatively.

Thomas smiled, nodded. “Hamilton, I've been a little bit in love with you since the day we met. You're incredibly irritating like that.”

“Really?” Alex couldn't but feel flattered.

“Ha! I win!” Phillip crowed.

“Ah, man. Last place.” Thomas sighed. “Let's play another round. This time I'm gonna kick your butt.”

“Thomas, are you trash-talking my kid?”

“Maybe I am.”

“Phillip, you kick his ass, okay?” Alex said fiercely.

“Don't worry, Dad, I'll beat him.” Phillip promised, his tongue poking out between his teeth as he concentrated on the game. Alex watched him fondly.

  
Alex woke the next morning with Jefferson’s arms around him, his head on Thomas’s bare chest.

Alex sat up, shook Thomas awake. “Hey. Hey, Thomas. Wake up.”

“Alex, it's quarter to six in the morning. What now?” Thomas grumbled, blinking groggily up at Alexander.

“Do you think tampons should be considered a luxury item?” Alex asked.

“Alex, I'm tired. You kept me up until like, two A.M with your begging—”

“—excuse me, I do not beg.” Alex glared at him, outraged.

Thomas shook his head, eyes sparkling with amusement. “You do too. I mean, last night was good—”

“It was very good.” Alex agreed. “Now c’mon, you know you wanna debate me.”

“I really don't.” Thomas said, stifling a yawn.

“Yes you do, come on.”

“See, this is what I mean! Begging.” Thomas exclaimed. Alex rolled his eyes. “Shut up and answer the question.”

Thomas thought for a moment, forming his argument, “Men have to pay for all their hygiene products, so yeah.”

“Are you comparing tampons to Old Spice shampoo? Seriously?” Hamilton retorted.

And so on it went. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> oh btw Alex's glasses look something like this (in case u were picturing him in the wire-frames from the show)  
> https://www.instagram.com/p/BBlLr6duWTV/
> 
> also, a note on the ice cream thing, Wowie Cowie and Gooey Mooie are legit ice cream flavours from an ice cream place I went to when I was vacationing in Prince Edward Island and I would be ashamed to say that to a server when ordering I would feel ridiculous 
> 
> anyway I'm rambling so I hope u enjoyed that & thanks so much for reading!!
> 
> hmu on Tumblr anytime @starkscully to scream abt jamilton with me
> 
> also, if you haven't yet, check out my other jamilton fic—like you need it to survive
> 
> ily guys!!


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